


you are my truest feeling yet (you're just like oxygen)

by smallredboy



Category: House M.D.
Genre: An Attempt At Shower Sex, Feelings, Gender Dysphoria, Insecurity, M/M, Scars, Trans Greg House, body issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-11-01 11:13:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17866205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallredboy/pseuds/smallredboy
Summary: House tries to have sex in the shower with Wilson. It doesn't go according to plan.





	you are my truest feeling yet (you're just like oxygen)

**Author's Note:**

> title from sunshine riptide by fall out boy
> 
> fills the 'sex in the shower/tub' square in my vday allbingo card!
> 
> enjoy!

House hasn’t showered with anyone ever since his leg happened, much less had sex in the shower. It’s been about eight years now, right, and Wilson and he are sort-of dating now, which is news to pretty much no one.  _ It’s about time _ , Cuddy had said, and that had been in it. And now they’re here, at his place.

He lets the water warm up, and he gets in, and Wilson kisses his shoulder blade and gets in behind him, starting to wash himself. House does the same, and he turns, and he bites his lip. He’s had sex with Wilson before, of course— it’s the first thing they did as soon as he got the title boyfriend, but he’s all too exposed. The water hits his back as Wilson starts kissing him absentmindedly, grinding up against him, and God, he’s not aroused at all.

“House,” Wilson mumbles against his lips, his hand trailing down his torso and resting on his hip, going a little farther down, and suddenly he’s hyper-aware of his scar. Of the way there’s an entire muscle missing in his leg, and he doesn’t want Wilson to see him like this. He’s here, and there’s water, and Wilson is looking at him like there’s something worth looking at.

House draws in a breath and kisses him again, his mind racking for an appropriate way of saying that he doesn’t think he can do this.

Wilson starts sinking to his knees, presumably to eat him out, and he’s reminded that he’s got a cunt. It’s nothing like a cis woman’s, sure— after decades in hormones it’s like that— but he starts feeling uncomfortable in his own skin. He hasn’t gotten bottom surgery because it’s not quite anything like a real dick yet.

Wilson puts a hand on his perfectly fine leg, in the same spot there’s a huge scar in the other, and he sighs shakily.

“I can’t,” he says.

Wilson immediately stands up, and he turns him around and starts washing him, using one of those shampoos with an overwhelming fragrance. He soaps up his back, scrubs, and there’s no discussion, just the soft hum in the back of Wilson’s throat and House trying to come to terms with him immediately accepting his denial.

He knows it’s what he should expect, but it still makes something pang inside him.

_ I’m not worthy _ , he thinks.

When Wilson finishes scrubbing him, he pulls him into the softest kiss he can manage. Languid and slow, like they’ve got all the time in the world, the water running behind them and the floor too slippery to not move carefully.

“I love you,” Wilson tells him.

House kisses him again in lieu of a response and tries to ignore how his heart flutters against his chest.

“Let me clean you now,” House says, avoiding anything touchy-feely about his scar or his body like the plague. He doesn’t think he can deal with such a thing just yet.

Wilson complies because he knows that his House has never been good at emotions.


End file.
